


infinitesimal

by silpium



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, this is pure self-indulgent fluff...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 13:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11601642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silpium/pseuds/silpium
Summary: It’s not wrong to say Hinata loves—adores—volleyball. So that’s what makes it strange when he starts feeling those sorts of things—that flutter in his chest, little thrills of happiness in his veins, the tiniest hitch in his breaths—in situations that are decidedly not volleyball-related, like when he and Kageyama are walking home after a perfect practice, or when he's studying with Kageyama—trying to study—and Kageyama can’t figure out what x is and is staring at the problem like it’s insulted him personally, or when he and Kageyama...Well, okay. Hinata’s not stupid, no matter what Tsukishima says (look, English is hard, and how is anyone supposed to know the differences among “there,” “their,” and “they’re”?), so he’s not oblivious to the underlying issue here. This… stupid, little, tiny, maybe (definitely)-crush on Kageyama.





	infinitesimal

That feeling of doing a flawless spike—the burning stretch in his calves, the tingling in his palm and every one of his fingers, humming and thrumming like they’re overflowing with energy, the fluttery sense of pure _satisfaction_ in his chest as the ball soars past that tall, tall wall—is something Hinata wouldn’t trade for the world. If only for a few moments, he becomes invincible, flying, as all that excitement and energy rushes through his veins and spills out of him, a flood in its own right—it’s everything Hinata could’ve dreamed of.

It’s not wrong to say Hinata loves— _adores_ —volleyball. So that’s what makes it strange when he starts feeling those sorts of things—that flutter in his chest, little thrills of happiness in his veins, the tiniest hitch in his breaths—in situations that are decidedly not volleyball-related, like when he and Kageyama are walking home after a perfect practice, or when he’s studying with Kageyama— _trying_ to study—and Kageyama can’t figure out what _x_ is and is staring at the problem like it’s insulted him personally, or when he and Kageyama...

Well, okay. Hinata’s not stupid, no matter what Tsukishima says (look, English is hard, and how is anyone supposed to know the differences among “there,” “their,” and “they’re”?), so he’s not oblivious to the underlying issue here. This… stupid, little, tiny, maybe (definitely)-crush on Kageyama.

Well, it's not as terrible as it could be. At least Hinata can _recognize_ it. He bets Kageyama wouldn't notice something like this if it slapped him in the face—he'd think it was, like, hyper-awareness that hadn't faded since they left the court, probably, even if it'd been days since they played. At least Hinata has experience in this sort of thing, has had _tons_ of crushes throughout elementary and middle school, tons more than Kageyama, definitely.

Totally.

That doesn't really help in the long run, though, even if it does make Hinata kind of smug to think he has Kageyama soundly beaten in this area.

It’s difficult to deal with this crush when it's on your best friend who you spend the most time with, who happens to be _terribly_ distracting. He’d pull his own teeth before he'd admit it out loud to anyone, especially Kageyama, but it's endearing, that little furrow Kageyama gets in his brow when he's trying to understand English, how driven he is to always beat Hinata in their stupid competitions, the way Hinata can tell how excited Kageyama is for afternoon practice during last period with how antsy he gets, the way he'll curl and unfurl his hands restlessly, like he can find no release for all that built up anticipation. 

That brings Hinata to this whole idea of confessing, since it's wearing on him a little, having to repress all of this, every little overflowing well of affection in his chest, having to keep censoring himself, cringing back every time Kageyama gets too close, having to be so self-aware and scared around him. Yeah, it's nice, that floatiness in his chest and that warmth whenever they're together, but there's always that background layer of anxiety Hinata can't quite quell. He _hates_ the chilling, numbing worry in the back of his mind telling him that Kageyama'll think he's gross, absolutely revolting, for feeling like this towards him, that this'll cause a fracture in their partnership worse than their fight at the training camp, that Hinata's going to ruin everything because… 

Because… what, because he’s _different_ from everyone else? Because he’s something that people don’t really accept? So maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad to tell Kageyama how he feels, because this fear, from the foundation up to every little stray thought it causes, is just the thing Kageyama always experiences. Different context, different degree, sure, but they’re both scared of being repudiated because they’re don’t fit that refined mold, so Kageyama would understand, wouldn’t he? Maybe not immediately and maybe his reaction wouldn’t be the best, but he has to notice they’re not so different, and so…maybe it’d be okay, even if he doesn’t reciprocate, and they’ve worked through worse things than Hinata caring a bit too much for him.

Still, that certainty doesn’t kill the bubbly, tight-strung nervousness that tingles just beneath Hinata’s skin like a ghost, the type that makes you all clumsy and awkward, as if he’d just woken up from a years-long sleep and is learning how to walk again. In the background, though, there’s this shaky, budding sense of eagerness and hope that matches up. Somehow, it makes that bubbly unease enlivening. 

It reminds him of so many months—was it really just months? barely even a year?—ago, during that first tournament match in middle school, that exact jumble of pure _feeling_. It’s like he’s back there, almost, but there’s a different shade to it, with everything that’s happened and everything he’s learned. He made it through that inevitable bitterness after their loss and stood all the taller for it, even with that infinitesimal chance of him making it up to the top. There’s more to it, now: the knowledge he’ll make it past whatever wall stands in his way.

So it’s a bright day when Hinata finally decides, determination welling in his gut, that _today is it_. Today’s the perfect day to prove to Kageyama how much better he is at this whole romance thing. No tests, no assignments to hand back, practice in the morning and afternoon, cleanup duty with Kageyama. He’ll be in the _best_ mood (that Kageyama can be in, anyway), won’t suspect anything until The Confession, and Kageyama’ll be so amazed at how good he is at all this. He’ll regret ever lording over Hinata and telling him what a dumbass he is (even though Hinata always, always scores better than him on tests, and he _knows_ so!)—

Except Kageyama somehow _knows_ , too, that something's up when Hinata bikes by his house to walk to school together that morning. It’s a little—okay, maybe a lot out of his way, but that’s what makes it romantic, isn’t it? Or just—“Sheesh, so much for trying to be nice and brighten your morning a little!” (Friends can do that, right?) 

Kageyama just gives him a Look, the kind like Hinata’s grown another arm. “We see each other every morning anyway, idiot. And I don’t want you getting all worn—I don’t want you using this as an excuse for being too tired to practice. I’m not going to go any easier on you today just because you wasted all your energy already.”

“ _Oooh_ , is that _concern_ I’m hearing, Kageyama-kun? Awh, I didn’t know you cared so much about me!” Hinata makes his voice positively saccharine, dripping with so much sweetness that it only just borders on the sarcasm he intends. “I’m flattered! You’re not usually so sweet, you know—”

Kageyama’s cheeks become a bit tinged with color, hot and scarlet against the chill of the morning air, and he struggles a bit before choking out “ _Shut up_ , dumbass, I just—you’re important to… the team, and—we can’t have you tired before the day even starts without that… impacting the rest of us. Idiot.” He huffs, a mix of relief and satisfaction, probably. 

(It’s cute, how flustered Kageyama gets, how his affection comes out in all these tiny little ways. It’s so _cute_ , and Hinata will die before he ever admits it to anyone, how much he loves seeing Kageyama blush like this. It makes his heart ache a little, and—ugh, Kageyama is so _stupid_ , and Hinata _hates_ it. It’s so frustrating, how every bit of him is cute, on top of how amaz— _talented_ he is at volleyball. He’s been naturally gifted every appealing quality, and Hinata’s heart can’t catch a break—unfair, much?)

“Don’t worry, Kageyama-kun! It’ll be our little secret!” He turns and grins up at Kageyama, who looks like he’s just swallowed a lemon (oh, wow, now Hinata really wants to see that happen—he’ll have to think of how to orchestrate it), and the walk to school continues in the same manner. 

It tugs at Hinata’s heart some more, how much of a miracle it is in its own little way, how _happy_ it makes him. It’s its own type of treasure, like how volleyball can’t rightfully be compared with anything else. Being able to have a partner like this (at this point—at this point, yes, he’s a partner, isn’t he?), someone who he can talk to so freely, someone who he can understand and be understood in return—it feels like there’s something special is in what they have, wrapped up in layers and layers, but still shining through. Something like this can’t be broken, not so easily, not by a confession. All there is for it is to become stronger, and stronger, and stronger.

So on this infinitesimal chance that Kageyama feels the same way, Hinata poses the question of getting meat buns together after practice, a practice that left him with that same fluttery sense of burning satisfaction—running through his veins like a dam broke somewhere within him—he’s come to associate with Kageyama. It was a good practice, one of their better ones, despite Kageyama’s nagging from that morning, and the feeling these practices leave him with seems just as new each time.

Practice is over, but that warmth is still curling throughout him, and the feeling doesn’t dull even as Kageyama glances suspiciously at him from the corner of his eye as they mop up the gym. “First meeting me at my house this morning, then acting all weird at lunch and giving me your milk box, not begging for tosses all practice, and now this? What’s up with you today?”

Hinata sticks his tongue out at him from the other side of the gym, petulant and childish. “Geez! It’s called being nice, Bakageyama, not that you’d know! And here I was gonna have our meat buns be my treat!” (He’s still going to, of course.) 

“It’s called being _weird_ ,” Kageyama bites out, and Hinata’s heart clenches in fear for a moment. “You’re weird as it is,” he continues as Hinata’s heart settles enough for him to squawk back in offense, “but you’re acting strange even for you.”

“Rude! You’re losing your chances of a free meat bun every time you open your mouth,” Hinata manages. “Do you want one or not, huh?”

“Just remember I can’t toss to you anymore if the poison you slip into it kills me,” Kageyama quips back as the two of them finish cleaning up the gym, walking step-in-step to clean off and return their mops to the closet. Hinata glares at him but doesn’t push further. They pack the rest of their things up, swinging their bags over their shoulders and heading out of the gym.

It’s a nice night—just bridging over into dusk, a few overly eager stars twinkling as the sun finishes painting the sky with maroons and purples and pinks that create something of a canvas that Hinata can’t help but marvel at. Kageyama doesn’t seem all that impressed even as Hinata gawks at the sight, and loudly, because, _geez, Kageyama, you don’t see this everyday_ , even if Kageyama insists that _you literally do see this happen every night_.

The way the stars are splayed against the dark tones of the night, the way they complement each other—it’s a gentle and blatant beauty simultaneously, so, no, Kageyama, you don’t see this every night. It’d even be one of the most pleasant, prettiest nights in Hinata’s memory, maybe, if the wind wasn’t blowing enough to redden their hands and cheeks like little kids who don’t know how to dress for the weather, the chill just enough to be uncomfortable. 

They make it to the team’s preferred meatbun place before it gets much colder, and Hinata rushes up to the stand, leaning his bike against the side, to pay for their favorites before Kageyama even gets there, getting over-excited like a child. It’s—really gonna happen. He’s really gonna confess to Kageyama. It’s autumn, dusk, after volleyball practice, he’s Hinata Shouyou, and he’s confessing to _Kageyama Tobio_. 

It all wells up in his throat until he’s practically tingling, vibrating, overflowing with anticipation and unused energy even after this whole long day, and, oh, he’s gonna confess to Kageyama Tobio.

Hinata practically shoves the meatbun in Kageyama’s face once he finally gets to Hinata, and Hinata is fiddling with his own like it’s a toy. He keeps curling and unfurling his toes in his shoes, a stupid little nervous habit of his, and Kageyama looks at him. He totally knows. There’s that _look_ in his eyes again, and Hinata feels his throat close up with butterflies or frogs or whatever it is, and—

“Hinata, are you—”

“I like you,” Hinata bursts out. He barely even understands what he said, and he’s the one who said it. Ugh, he had this whole stupid speech rehearsed, and then the butterflies just flew out from his throat like they had minds of their own, and he’s totally messed everything up again, hasn’t he?

“Idiot, you have to speak slowly enough for me to—”

“I said—I said I like you, stupid! Like—like that. I like the stupid way you look when you’re trying to do your homework, and how—how passionate you are about volleyball, how bea—nice you look during games, how you act all aloof and stuff but you’re such a goofball and you’re so obsessed with beating me in our competitions, and—” He’s just a stuttering, blushing mess at this point, and he lost his speech before it even began. Kageyama’s _frozen_ , his mouth hangong open like he’s partway through a gasp, and, well, Hinata’s heart doesn’t just clench this time, but freezes up, too, like it’s the dead of winter instead of just the middle of autumn. 

“You,” Kageyama starts, then swallows. “You—you what?” He asks, kind of dumbly, like he’s not even awake, eyes all blank and unfocused. His meatbun is suffering a bit from the grip he has it in, crumbs falling off the sides onto the dirt path beneath them.

“I told you—I told you I like you,” Hinata mumbles, “as in—like like. Not… it’s more than as friends. Um. You don’t have to, like, like me back or anything, I just—”

“You—are you… serious? You can’t be serious,” Kageyama flounders. “People don’t—I’m not someone people… is this a joke?” Realization dawns on his face. “Was that why you were acting so…” 

“No! No, oh my gosh, Kageyama, you—you’re so stupid! I _like_ you! I just told you, I like all these little things about you that I shouldn’t even be noticing, and I, uhm. I—admire you a lot, idiot. The entire team does, we—we all like you. But I like you the most, and I want to be—don’t make me say it, ugh, I want to be—your… boyfriend,” he grinds out, barely audible. He’s blushing enough to keep himself warm in winter, and it’s so embarrassing he wants to crawl in a hole. “If—that’s what you want, too. You don’t have to—”

“No, I—” Kageyama says suddenly, words mushed together in his hurry. “No, I… I—I like—I think I like you, too, I mean… I like you. Too. For sure.”

_Oh_. Oh, gosh. Hinata feels like he’s about to burst with the pure _warmth_ that spills through his veins, the happiness that curls and curdles throughout his body— _I like you, too._ I like you, too. It barely feels real, and he’s trembling with everything he’s feeling.

He stares up at Kageyama with stars in his eyes, and Kageyama looks down at him, face all red like a tomato. Hinata’s grinning, probably so hard that Kageyama would make fun of him in any other situation. “ _Kageyama_ ,” and, okay, he’s kind of yelling, but he’s _excited_ , give him a break, “really? You really do?”

“Yes, dumbass,” Kageyama contrives in a hiss, “that’s… that’s what I said. I meant it. You—make me feel like a better person, and, uhm, I just—feel warm around you. Like no matter what happens, I really am invincible.” It’s barely a whisper, and Kageyama won’t meet his eyes as he says it, and it’s _adorable_.

“Awh, Kageyama, that’s—me too,” Hinata manages through the sheer joy and affection rushing through him. “You make me feel… a lot, even if you’re a stupid jerk half the time. Like I would ever poison my partner’s meatbun!”

Kageyama whips his head up, frown plastered in his face. “How was I supposed to know this was some—stupid elaborate plan to get me alone? Dumbass, what did you expect me to think?”

“I don’t know! Something rational, like, I don’t know, maybe I wanted to ask you something about the homework! Not that I was going to poison your meatbun!” Hinata pouts at him, crossing his arms and crushing his meatbun even more, not that he really cares in the face of that—Kageyama Tobio likes him back. He _likes him back_. “I…” Hinata swallows, eyes darting up to meet Kageyama’s as his heart swells again with this weird mix of anxiety and affection. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Kageyama’s face erupts with color and he just nods, not trusting his voice. So Hinata stands up on his tiptoes, reaching, and cups Kageyama’s cheek in one of his hands, and closes his eyes real tight as he leans in, barely catching Kageyama’s mouth with his own, and—well.

It’s not the greatest kiss, and to be honest, the positioning of their noses and necks, not to mention Hinata’s stretching, is kind of uncomfortable. But there’s something special to it—it’s warm, so _warm_ , Kageyama’s cheek in his hand and their faces so close, like a furnace in the dead of a blizzard. Hinata’s chest goes all tight and feels funny to know, oh, he’s kissing Kageyama, Kageyama, who he’s had a crush on so long, and he likes Hinata back, and—it’s so, so gentle and warm and _nice_ even through the discomfort of position and inexperience. 

Hinata hums in happiness against Kageyama’s lips, and Kageyama brings his hand to Hinata’s hips, and it’s—it’s really happening. Hinata’s chest feels just about to burst with all this happiness welling up and spilling over, all the volatile emotions mingling and mixing in him. Even in the cold of the night, Hinata’s never felt so warm and safe in his life.

They part, after a while, and Kageyama’s fighting a smile and losing. It makes Hinata feel even warmer, to see Kageyama so freely happy like this, to know he had a part in it, and he just—wants to see Kageyama like this, forever. He finds himself saying as much before he can help himself, and Kageyama is shocked silent for a moment, and lets that smile overtake him after telling Hinata to _shut up, idiot_.

Their meatbuns are cold, kind of crumbly and gross now, but they’re still delicious as they walk home. Their parting is harder, this time, but also happier in a sense. Hinata keeps the warmth of their second kiss with him on his walk home and through the night, through the frost that appears on the grass the next morning, the snow that comes months later, and the winter next year. And that warmth only becomes more and more constant, more and more present in his heart, like a second one within him; that’s what happiness is, Hinata thinks, to be able to feel warm through every winter.

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the beaut and lovely [clem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferTM/pseuds/luciferTM)!! 
> 
> thank you so, so much for reading!! c: please feel free to comment with criticism or otherwise—i'd appreciate it!
> 
> you can find me on twitter @hhatsunetsu if you'd like to chat!


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